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"A WISE MAN IS STRONG." 



A SERMON 



O N T HE D E A T H O F 



DANIEL WEBSTEFi. 



X 



DELIVERED IN 



TRLMTY CHURCH, WASHINGTON, D. C, 

November 7. 185S, 



BY 



Rev. C. M. BUTLER, D. D., Rector. 



WASHINGTON: 

W . M . MORRISON & CO. 

1852. 



<'A WISE MAN IS STRONG." 



A SERMON 



ON THE DEATH OF 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



DELIVERED IN 



TKINITY CHURCH. WASHINGTON, D.C., 

November 7, 1852, 



BY 



Rev. C. M. BUTLER, D. D.. Rector. 



< 



WASHINGTON: 

W. M. MORRISON & CO 
1S52. 



£1340 



Washington, D. C, Ji'ov. 8, 1852. 
Rev. Cle.ment M. Bltler, D. D. 

Rev'd and dear sir : The undersigned having listened with sincere pleasure 
to the very eloquent and interesting Sermon pronounced by you on the last 
Sunday evening in commemoration of the eminent public and private character 
of the late Daniel Webster, would deeply regret that such a tribute to the 
memory of the illustrious deceased should be known only to the comparatively 
small number who were so fortunate as to hear it, and therefore respectfully 
ask you to furnish us with a copy for publicaiion. 

Very sincerely and respectfully yours, &c., 

MILLARD FILLMORE, 
ALEX. H. H. STUART, 
D. W. MIDDLETOX, 
A. H. LAWRENCE, 
J. M. CARLISLE, 
RICH'D S. COXE, 
JNO. W. MAL'RY, 
FRANCIS MARKOE, 
J. C. McGUIRE, 
FfrZHUGH COYLE. 
J. BARTRAM NORTH. 



Washington, D. C, Xov. 10, 1952. 

Gentlemen: It was with much diffidence that I prepared the feeble tribute 
to the memory of iVIr. Webster, which it was no less my duty, than the 
prompting of my heart, to pay. 

However much I may fear that tlic warm approval of my effort which your 

kindness prompts you to express may create a disappointment in the minds of 

those who shall read this Discourse, I feel it would be unbecoming in me to 

withhold it, when thus requested, from publication. If any words of mine, 

borrowing weight and worth from those who approve them, shall seem in any 

measure fitly to express the sorrow, gratitude, and affection for the illustrious 

dead which arc swelling the great heart of this Republic, I shall count myself 

happy. 

With great respect, your obedient servant, 

C. M. BUTLER. 
To 

llisExVv .MU.I.AUl) KUJ-MOnE, 
Tub Hon. ALEX. II. II. ^TfAUT, 

D. \V. Mini)I,ETO\, 

A. II. I.AWIlKXLi;, 

J. M. L'AKLISI.K. 

BICII'I) S. co.xi:, 

JVO. W. MAIRY, 

FUAXCIS MAP.KOE, 

J. C. McUUIItR, 

KIT/.IIJGII COVI.E. 

J. BARTRAM NORTH. 



SERMO 



"A WISE MAN IS STRONG." 

Ppov. XXIV, 5. 

A wise and strong man, lately with us, has de- 
parted. The last of "the three mighiies''^ is no 
more. Daniel Webster is no longer the name of 
living wisdom, grandeur, power. He is hidden 
from our eyes. The funeral rites are over. The 
mourning multitude who, with drooping heads and 
swelling hearts, attended his burial, have dispersed. 
The little group of chosen friends, lately gliding 
with suppressed, reverential, and affectionate sor- 
row around his bed, and through the hushed house 
of mourning, have all departed. The echo of the 
blended voices of bereaved love and affectionate 
eulogy, which rose above his grave, yet linger on 
the air. The sickness, the death, the burial, the 
admiring tributes paid to his memory by individuals. 
Cities, States, and the Nation, no longer passing in 
august and mournful procession before our minds, 
have now taken their places among the most sub- 
lime and affecting incidents of our national history. 
That majestic form, which we have seen so often 
and so recently in this house of God, has passed 
forever from our view. It sleeps, in the midst of a 
scene of solitary grandeur, by the sea. It rests in 
a fiivorite spot, where, looking out upon the ocean 
and the sky, he loved to meditate and drink in the 



spirit of a scene so congenial to liis mighty mind, 
in the hour of morning's freshness and of twilight's 
cahn. It is a resting place suited to the severe and 
majestic simplicity of his character, his intellect, 
his Hfe, his death, his burial. The sea — emblem of 
vastness, majesty, mystery, and power — chaunts, 
in fit and melancholy monotone, his perpetual re- 
quiem. As the pilgrim to his tomb shall stand 
upon that elevation where he sleeps, and look out 
upon the sea, and hear the measured music of the 
waves as they break upon the shore, he will see a 
sublimer ocean of human souls spreading before 
his spirit eye, and hear it rolling and breaking, in 
strains of sorrow, affection, admiration, and grati- 
tude, at the base of his lofty fame. 

Few men have, so well as 3Ir. Webster, illus- 
trated the truth, that " a wise man is strong.*' 

The wise and foolish, in the language of Solo- 
mon, sometimes mean merely the good and the 
evil. Sometimes Solomon uses the word '^ wise ■' 
to designate exclusively intellectual sagacity and 
power. At other times, as in the text, he includes 
both meanings in the word. Very frequently he 
asserts that holiness — the wisdom of the heart — 
increases the sagacity, discretion, and power of the 
understanding — the wisdom of the mind. When 
these two wisdoms are combined, then, in the 
highest and best sense of the word, the man is wise. 

He who in tiiis sense is wise must be strong, and 
all the knowledge that he gains must increase his 
strength. 



If we suppose the intellect of an angel to be 
given to a good man, and to lose nothing of its 
vigor and splendor by its mortal encasement, and 
by its union witJi a human soul and a human heart, 
we can imagine how greatly wise he would be. 
How would his great intellect sit, in throned supre- 
macy, over other minds ! He would see things as 
they are, trace their causes, perceive their con- 
nexions, run forward to their results, disentangle 
sophistries, hold vast details in his simultaneous 
conception, pierce through seemings to realities, 
bring and bind together severed truths; and on 
every field of thought, and in every department 
of action, make to rise amid the rubbish of the 
schemes and systems of the past, and the incom- 
plete and deformed structures of the present, beau- 
tiful, symmetrical, and complete palaces of thought, 
based upon eternal truths, and fashioned after those 
perfect patterns in the skies, whose '-builder and 
maker is God !" If such a being should mingle in 
the affairs of men, how strong would his wisdom 
prove in ruling the thought, and determining the 
conduct, of the multitudes who would be found sit- 
ting at his feet. 

At a vast distance below a being such as this 
would be, stand the foremost men of all the world. 
But the supposition of such a being enables us the 
better to perceive in what the strength of the wise 
consists. In this world of uncertainty and of error, 
he who can best tell the multitudes, who are per- 
plexed and suffering from past mistakes, what is 



right, truth, wisdom, safety, and success, is a man 
of power. He is strong for good and strong against 
evil. God's might is with him. Every accession of 
knowledge will increase his own and others strength. 

A jrreat mind, enliirhtcned by ffrace, and directed 
in its thought and work by moral and religious prin- 
ciple and feeling, is a precious gift from God to man. 
It is a great instrument of good. Its strength is in- 
ward peace, and its goings forth are beneficence. 
It deserves our gratitude. It awakens our just ad- 
miration. It stimulates our curious and wanderinsr 
search into its structure, its action, and the hidings 
of its power. It rewards our study. It gives right 
direction to our own minds. It guides communities 
and nations into the ways of truth, righteousness, 
and peace. 

Such a man is strong in himself. i\o more piti- 
able spectacle of weakness can be conceived tiian 
that of a human soul in doubt concerning the future, 
and unprepared to enter upon it with '• quietness 
and assurance." Even if it have the mental gifts of 
Bolingbroke or Hume, it is a poor and feeble thing, 
with no peace, no power to breast present ills, and 
no good assurance of hapj)iness in the future. Such 
a soul cannot be self-poised, calm, and strong. Its 
doubts are weakness ; its conclusions are not 
strength. All uncertain of God, of the souFs im- 
mortality, of the Ahnighty's mode of dealing in an- 
other world— -if such there be — with spirits that 
have sinned, how can there be confidence and rest 
of heart, strength of moral purpose, fixed plans and 



ends in life, and a steady, cheerful, and brave doing 
and enduring unto the end .-^ Or if the conckision 
be reached, that beyond the present life all is blank, 
that the soul at death flits into non-existence, what 
is to come out of that black nothingness to cheer 
and assure the soul ? Or if it conclude that God 
will make all his creatures happy in another world, 
how often will that conclusion be shaken, when rea- 
son tells him that it is not proved^ and fear suggests 
that it may not be true^ and conscience whispers 
that it is false ! If he doubts, he is driven, without 
rudder, compass, chart, or star, over life's vexed 
waste of waves, he knows not whither. If he be- 
lieves, then, indeed, he is anchored ; but he is an- 
chored in a dark, misty, and stormy night, by a shore 
from which no beacon beams, and no friendly voice 
of warning or direction comes; and all uncertain 
whether the vague and solemn sounds which reach 
him are the roar of the breakers on the rocks where 
he must perish, or the fall of the waves on the shore 
of the safe harbor into which he may pass in peace, 
he must await, in gloom and darkness, the break- 
ing of the day. Surely this man has no. inward 
strength ! 

But when a great mind is wise to seek and find 
out God, and secure pardon and peace in Christ, it 
is girded about with power. Then it is in commu- 
nication with God, and draws strength from him. 
Uncertainty about the future is dispelled. The 
path of duty is made clear. The way to God's fa- 
vor is disclosed. The mysteries connected with 



8 

ills own personal condition are resolved. He knows, 
by faith, which rests on proof and promise, that all 
things work together for his good. His plans, his 
ends, his motives, are all high and inspiriting. In 
his weakness, he knows how to obtain strength. In 
iiis darkness, he knows where to resort for light. 
Though there be mysteries, connected with the ex- 
istence of evil and the providence of God, which he 
cannot comprehend, he holds in his hands the seal- 
ed solutions of these enigmas, which will be opened 
in heaven, and on which God has written the pro- 
mise, '-thou shalt know hereafter." Surely this 
man is strong. 

A man thus endowed with great gifts of intellect, 
and thus at peace w ithin, how wise he will be in the 
conduct of alfairs, and how strong in his influence 
over men I He will go into life pledged and (juali- 
fied to seek truth and discharii;e dutv. He will love 
to promote the elevation and the happiness of man. 
Passion will not be allowed to pervert his judg- 
ment. Selfishness will not sway him into courses 
which shall promote his interests at the expense of 
the welfare or the happiness of others. How will men 
gather about, applaud, love, give themselves to one 
thus great and wise and good. There is nothing 
on which men expend so much of the atfection. en- 
thusiasm, and raj)lure of their nature, as upon their 
guides and leaders, whose gifted and powerful minds 
they believe to be under the sway of high, benefi- 
cent, and noble hearts. He who can give vivid 
expression to their thoughts and feelings, clear up 



tlieir difficulties, remove their doubts, carry them 
forward to new truths, speak the word that will 
save them in the hour of crisis, and give his highest 
energies to their welfare at the sacrilice of himself, 
wields a power such as Ctesars, with Senates at their 
heels, and legions at their beck, and nations on their 
knees before them, never can possess. It is a power, 
not over men's fears and stupid homage, but power in 
the soul, over its convictions, its affections, its moral 
judgments. It is power which dignifies alike him 
who exercises it and those who own its sway. It 
extorts an homage which elevates those from whom 
It comes ; for they are then most truly free, when 
they bow lowliest before the might and majesty of 
beneficent grejltness. It is the tribute of enlighten- 
ed intellects, instructed consciences, and grateful 
hearts, to him who has taught and blessed them ; 
and this tribute is evidence that, in the best sense, 
they have been made free; and, at the same time, 
one of the loftiest exhibitions of their freedom. 
Power over pure hearts and free minds ; power to 
awaken the best latent or slumbering elements of 
man's nature, is real power. Great men, who are 
rich in intellect, genius, and practical wisdom, and 
at the same time good men, are the mightiest 
kings and heroes of the world. Vulvar kinijs lord 
it over man's baseness. These kings sway that in 
him which is freest, greatest, noblest! Such kings 
were Washington and Webster ! 

That Mr. Webster was, in a remarkable degree, 
great, wise, and strong, was universally felt and 



10 

owned. All men, of all sections, parties, and 
opinions, have long called him pre-eminently great. 
The services which he has rendered his country 
have made every American citizen his debtor. It 
IS fit that, everywhere through the land, his name 
should be honored, his great mind studied, his 
character contemplated, and his services recalled. 
In this city, which was the scene of most of his 
public labors, and in this church where he worship- 
ped, it is peculiarly becoming that a tribute to his 
memory should be paid. As one of the great works 
of God, we would studv him. As one of God's best 
"ifts to our country, we would render thanks to 
Heaven for him. As one whose wisdom has in- 
structed us, and whose patriotism Iras rendered us 
inestimable services, we would pay to his memory 
warm tributes of gratitude, adnnration. and respect. 
As one whom we have seen to go in and out among 
us — our fellow citizen and neighbor — with whom 
some of us have been permitted to hold ofiicial or 
friendly and social relations, and others to hold 
relations more intimate and sacred, we bend over 
his tomb with the swelling sorrow of a personal 
bereavement, to which the feeling that the most 
wondrous mind, and one of the most beautiful hearts 
that we have known, or ever expect to know, has 
passed away, lends a regret that nnght be rebellion, 
and crief that mijiht be aniruish. did we not believe 
that liis spirit is at ))eace. and that the interrupted 
fellowships of the good on earth shall be resumed 
in heaven. It is the conviction that death does 



11 

but unfold good and great men into higher being 
and blessedness, and that all that was best and 
purest in their natures still survives to bless the 
world, that makes us realize that what is to us the 
setting of the soul, is to another hemisphere of be- 
ing its refulgent rising ; and it is this which soothes 
our sorrow as they disappear, and transmutes it into 

" A holy concord, and a bright regret, 
A glorious sympathy with suns that set." 

The career of Mr. Webster, for the last thirty- 
five years, has been passed under the nation's eye. 
The circumstances of his childhood, youth, and 
early professional life, as well as the prominent 
incidents of his great public career, have, since his 
death, been vividly recalled and presented to our 
memories and hearts by the public press. It would 
therefore be superfluous for me to present a sketch., 
and it would be impossible for me to give a history, 
of his life. 

I am aware that the attempt to analyze and de- 
scribe the mental greatness of one who towered so 
hich above his fellows as Mr. AVebster, may wear 
the aspect of presumption. But the truth is, there 
was nothing unintelligible, nothing mysterious or 
obscure, in his greatness. It was understood and 
felt alike by minds of very different degrees of 
culture and of power. It was a kind of greatness 
which, like that of the dome of St. Peter's, or of the 
Pyramids, w'as simple and obvious, while it was 
transcendent. It was not like that of a Plato or a 
Kant, which only minds of peculiar gifts and train- 



12 

ing can discern. Men of common powers of intel- 
lect and fancy, and of the ordinary sentiments and 
feelincs of our nature, saw in him a man of the 
same kind with themselves — nay, they saw in him 
themselves enlarged, strengthened, ennobled, glori- 
fied ! 

Mr. Webster was furnished with all those 
faculties which, in various developments and com- 
binations, make men great. In him there was 
wanting no faculty which is counted an ornament 
or a power in the human soul. The distinguishing 
peculiarity of his greatness was, that not only was 
each faculty separately excellent, but that all were 
ri^^htly proportioned, harmoniously developed, and 
beautifully and mutually helpful to each other. >'o 
one faculty jostled or crowded out, or covered over, 
another. In that fine confederated union no pow er 
rebelled against, or encroached upon, or marred 
cither singly, or all combined ; but all ministered to 
each other's glory and success. His power of 
analysis was not separated from the ability to 
•rcneralize. His vivid perception of single truths 
did not diminish his power of viewing them in their 
connexions. His strong stern logic did not trample 
upon and crush his lancy. On llie contrary, his 
taculties, being cultivated in due proportion, lent 
to each other the check or the charm they needed. 
His clear perception of particular truths and facts 
prevented rash and hasty generalization; while 
his fund of general principles, carefully and slowly, 
but surelv, formed, enabled him to know whence 



13 

to trace and where to place individual facts and 
phenomena as they appeared. His severe taste 
chastened his vivid imagination. His chastened 
imagination hung as an ornament of grace around 
.his neck of sinewy strength. There was often a 
sound of music and a wave of blazened banners in 
the air as his arguments moved on; but these were 
only the incidental accompaniments of his march ; 
and beneath them there might ever be seen the 
steady movement, and heard the solid tramp, of 
compact and embattled power. It was this rare 
combination of strength and beauty, grace and 
power, penetration and comprehensiveness, which 
rendered him pre-eminent in such various fields 
of thought and action. It is this which makes so 
many, who themselves excel in the departments in 
which they assign to him pre eminence, declare, 
that he was the first lawyer, the first orator, the 
first statesman, the first writer of his age. 

We can but briefly speak of some of his pecu- 
liarities which made the people of this country, for 
years, bend forward to catch every word that issued 
from his lips. 

He had a most extraordinary clearness of state- 
ment ; his mere statement of a case has often been 
called a stronger argument for it, than the labored 
plea of most other men would be. 

This arose from the fact that he would allow no 
vagueness in his own conceptions. ^^ hat he did 
know, he would know clearly, or he would not 
consider it as truly known. 



11 

And not only had he clear conceptions in his 
own mind, but he would give them fortii in clear 
expressions. He gave no utterance to half-formed 
thoughts, and no half-utterance to thoughts full- 
formed. The full thought, fully and clearly expres-. 
sed — this was his rigid demand upon himself And 
where shall we find sentences and thoughts in his 
writings which we do not comprehend ,' We cannot 
avoid understanding his statements. They stand 
out bold, distinct, and strong. Not of his thoughts 
and reasonings could it be said, as of the lion just 
coming from the creative power — 

" Now half appeared 
The tawny lion, pawing to get free 
His hinder parts." 

His thoughts were lions, completely fashioned and 
completely free. 

In view of this habit of mind, it often occurred to 
mc to wish, when I have heard him discuss psycolo- 
gical questions, and speak of modern philosophies, 
that he could have directed more attention to these 
subjects, and given us his thoughts upon them. I 
know not that his was a mind that would have been 
likely to have added to this branch of knowledge ; but 
he would. I think, have marked out the limits with- 
in which iiKjuiry was legitimate and knowledge pos- 
sible, with a nice discrimination and a steady hand. 
AVe should have been very sure that he meant some- 
thing, and knew what he meant ; and we should 
have had the great satisfaction of knowing precisely 
what his meaninir was. 



15 

Connected with this pecuharity of clearness of 
conception was a singular power of condensation. 
Some men, such as Chalmers, make themselves 
understood by means of diffuseness, repetitions, 
definitions, cautions, limitations, and contrasts. Mr. 
Webster studied, with unexampled success, to give 
clearness to single thoughts and trains of thoughts, 
by brief, vivid, and compact expression. 

But his great power was shown in his simple, 
plain, and honest logic, which all men could follow, 
and from which no sophistry could escape. To 
minds of lesser powers, which had been bewildered 
by the complexities of another's argument, it was a 
matter of intense delight to follow him, as he march- 
ed right on, armed with proof, through irrelevancies 
and sophistries on the right hand and on the left, 
and took his stand on the citadel of demonstration, 
and planted upon it the flag of victory. 

And in confirmation of the same remark 1 cannot 
but repeat the recent saying of one of his distin- 
guished brethren at the bar, in Boston, to the effect 
that, as no man could argue a good cause so well, 
so few persons argued a bad cause worse. It was 
the difference between Sampson, his locks all flow- 
ing, with the gates of Gaza upon his back, and Samp- 
son, shorn, grinding for the Philistines. 

No man ever treated the minds of those whom he 
addressed with more real and heart-felt respect than 
Mr. Webster. He never approached them as those 
who could be led by passion or deceived by sophis- 
try. He made no appeals to their baser nature, and 



16 

took no advantage of their ignorance. He address- 
ed them in good faith as his equals in nitelhgence 
and patriotism. He took upon himself none of the 
airs of a political pedagogue. He constructed the 
same kind of arguments, and in the same forms and 
phrases, for the highest and the humblest minds. 
His power over them was the power of truth, of 
fact, of reason, of right, of justice, and of conscience, 
whose vehicle and interpreter he aimed to be. He 
played no tricks before his audience or his country. 
He used with them no sliiiht of hand. He never 
iuffffled them into blind and ianorant belief. He 
was not one of those veiled prophets, whose glory 
IS seen only on the edges of the covering, behind 
which they stand hidden from the gaze of their de- 
luded worshippers. He was open as the day. 

Very remarkable, also, was Mr. AVebster's power 
of seeing the precise points upon which an argu- 
ment turned, the decisive issue that controlled a 
question. Often, when a groat body of argument 
stood and blustered before him, he has known how 
to demolish it by a blow at its central fallacy. A 
single stroke upon its brain has laid it lifeless at his 
feet. 

To these characteristics may be added the high 
philosophy, the pure sentiment, the religious eleva- 
tion, the impassioned earnestness, the vivid and dar- 
ing imagination, which signali/cd his higher eiVorts, 
when in some great crisis in the State, or in some 
moment of intense personal excitement, the whole 
enthusiasm, passion, and patriotism of his nature 



17 

kindled, blazed, and glowed, investing himself in 
radiance, and shooting convincing light and splendor 
over a grateful and admiring country. They who 
have seen this, will never see its like again ! 

There have been several occasions in Mr. Web- 
ster's history when he has been thus roused, and 
in which he has shown himself pre-eminently 
" strong-." The Constitution and the Union of the 
States were the objects of his intense admiration 
and affection. Their glory and importance were 
the most kindhng themes which could be presented 
to his mind. If they were in peril, his whole nature 
was aroused. On two occasions — that of his reply 
to Mr. Ilayne, and that of his speech in March, 
1850 — he has spoken on these topics with amazing 
eloquence and power. 

We cannot, even now, read in our closets the 
words which he uttered on the first of these occa- 
sions, without feeling the eye suffused, the heart 
throb, and the pulses leap. What power they had 
at the crisis, in the scene where they were spoken, 
issuing warm and vivid from the kindled soul of the 
Orator, with tones and looks and gestures of cor- 
responding grandeur, many remember, all have 
heard, none who read the history of their country 
will be ignorant of or forget. The rapture of 
admiration and gratitude which this speech awak- 
ened, the power with which it settled forever some 
momentous principles and questions, never have 
been surpassed. No one doubts that it is the 
greatest oration ever delivered in this country. 
2 



18 

Many believe that it is the greatest which ever tell 
from the lips of man. Never has the description 
of the poet received a finer illustration. We feel 
that he who wrote it must have been in the Senate 
on that occasion, and written in commemoration of 
the scene. 

"Come, and I will tell thee of a joy which the parasites of 
pleasure have not known, 

Though earth, air, and sea have gorged the appetites of sense. 

Behold what fire is in his eye, what fervor in his cheek; 

That glorious burst of winged words — how bound they from his 
tongue; 

The full expression of the mighty thought, the strong triumphant 
argument; 

The rush of native eloquence, resistless as Niagara; 

The keen demand, the clear reply, the fine poetic image, 

The nice analogy, the clinching fact, the metaphor bold and free, 

The grasp of concentrated intellect, wielding the omnipotence of 
truth. 

The grandeur of his speech in his majesty of mind! 

Champion of the right, patriot or priest, or pleader of the inno- 
cent cause; 

Upon whose lips the mystic bee hath dropped the honey of per- 
suasion; 

"Whose heart and tongue have been touched as of old by a live 
coal from the altar. 

How wide the spreading of thy peace ! how deep the draught of 
thy pleasure ! " 

But for power — power ol' character, hitellcct, 
and a long life of patriotic service ; power resulting 
from confidence in his great abilities and true patri- 
otism, his eiiuiil justice and his large wisdom — 
nothiiiii has ever e(|uallcd that wliich he exerted 
when, in an alarming crisis, he stood up to speak 
on the 7lh of iMarch, 1850, and the whole country 



19 

bent forward with palpitating eagerness to liear. 
Well may the minister of the Gospel commemorate 
that scene, for on the preservation of the Union 
the best interests of religion, no less than of liberty, 
depend. But I would speak of it now as an illus- 
tration of the wise man's strength. It was not a 
glowing and impassioned oration which he uttered 
then. The occasion w'as too grave for passion and 
for the play of fancy. His argument was measured, 
sedate, and laden with an.xious care. It breathed 
peace and conciliation. It counselled forbearance, 
self-sacrifice, and patriotic devotion to the Union. 
It avoided the words and the allusions which ex- 
cite prejudice and passion. But, in those calm 
words, what power ! I need not remind you 
how they went over the land like a healthful and 
reviving breeze in a stifling and noxious air. I 
need not tell you how they awakened confidence 
and hope. I need not recall to your memory how 
they served to bind in fraternal brotherhood patri- 
otic hearts from various parties and sections of the 
land, and to animate to new exertions their almost 
exhausted ingenuitv. and their almost disheartened 
toil. But trace those words as they reach his 
home, and you will see what prodigious power 
the great man, in whose purity of purpose there is 
confidence, possesses. Those words fell on un- 
willing ears. They clashed with the convictions 
of those whom he represented. He by whom they 
were spoken was not their master, but their repre- 
sentative and servant. The strong, thoughtful, 



20 

earnest men of that region, do not give up their 
convictions to any or all dead or living men. Only 
by winning their honest belief, sentiment, and feeling 
to his side, could he bring these men — descendants 
of those who would not give up their convictions 
to kings when they were in their power — to set the 
seal of their approbation to his course. And this 
is what that great speech did. It went among 
them, and the name, the fame, the past services, 
the great clear mind of its author, went with it; 
and it spoke in a still small voice, to their reason 
and their heart, their patriotism and their justice, 
until their convictions surrendered to his words. 
He dedicated to them the speech with the motto, 
" VERA PRO GRATIS "' — " truc words, rather than ac- 
ceptable '■ — and he might, in the next edition, have 
changed its form, and written " vera et grata,'' 
'•true and acceptable.'' Such power few men have 
ever wielded; such greatness few have ever shown. 
These were the crises whicii presented him in his 
true and majestic proportions to the country and 
the world. 

His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone, 

For he was great ere fortune made him so; 
And strifes, like mists thai rise against the sun, 

Made him but greater seera, not greater grow. 

Nor was he like those stars which only shine 
When to pale mariners tliey storms portend, 

He had his calmer intlucncce, and his mien 
Did love and majesty together blend. 

Such was the strength manifested by this wise 
man on the theatre of public life. It was not the 



21 

mere power of intellect. It was the strength of 
one who, in the meaning of Solomon in the text, 
was wise. With his great mental powers there were 
joined religious and moral principles and character. 
I do not wish to be considered as denying that 
Mr, Webster had his infirmities of character, and 
his faults and sins of life. What, and how great 
they were, I do not know. That they were much 
less and fewer than party passion and personal 
enmity would suggest, we may be sure. That he 
has been vilely slandered there can be no question. 
That he was ardently beloved, highly venerated, 
and entirely confided in by those who constituted 
his family circle, and those who shared his closest 
friendship, is well known. When those who have 
been intimately cognizant for years of the public 
and private life of an individual, entertain for him 
an enthusiastic reverence, and express a warm ad- 
miration for the daily moral beauty of his life, we 
may safely, and we must in justice, discredit the 
grossly disparaging misrepresentations of those who 
know and see him only at a distance. Such is the 
feeling and the testimony of all his nearest friends. 
As one who has had the privilege to hold towards 
him, for more than five years past, the relation of 
Pastor, who has been recognised by him in that 
relation, and called by that endearing name, and 
admitted to the privileges which it involves, I feel 
constrained to say, and I say it with emphasis and 
without qualification, that / have never known any 
thing to disprove, and I have known many things to 



22 

confirm these friendly representations and this feel- 
ing of reverence and regard. Whatever may have 
been his infirmities, they were not such, in my judg- 
}nent and behef, as ever to have corrupted his moral 
principles, debased his character and taste, and 
destroyed the life of his religion. I believe that 
Mr. Webster was a converted and religious man ; 
and it was this element of his character that lent a 
peculiar strength and beauty to his writings, his 
affections, his public and his private life. 

In a few more words upon this point 1 will dis- 
miss a subject upon wiiich it is painful for me to 
speak, but upon which I also feel it would be wrong in 
me, considering the relations which I have sustained 
to him, and the kindnesses I have received from him, 
to be altogether silent. These attacks upon his 
character and the misgivings of portions of the pub- 
lic mind in consequence, wiiich somewhat diminish- 
ed the strength of an influence which, witiiout some 
such abatement, it might have been too much for 
any man, with safety to his soul, to have possessed, 
reads a salutary lesson to public men. It shows 
them that no intellect, however gigantic, can sway 
the mind and heart of the people of this country, 
unless it is believed to be connected with purity of 
life and principle. It admonishes them, not only 
to be, but to be careful to seem, and to be seen to 
be, faithful and incorrupt. 

And now I turn to those traits of character whicli 
were largely modified and influenced by his reli- 
gious element and training, some beautiful iflustra- 



23 

lions of which have been presented in the public 
prints. Then it will remain for me to speak of his 
relififious character and his closing hours. 

There was in Mr. Webster a simple, unpretend- 
in"- Doric dignity of character and demeanor, which 
corresponded with the greatness of his mind. Not 
from any thing that he assumed^ but from what he 
was, he impressed all who associated with him 
with reverence, and many with awe. 

From this dignity and self-respect he set an ex- 
ample of decorum, high courtesy and forbearance in 
debate and in writing, which has been rarely equal- 
led, and never surpassed. It is stated that he has 
never been called to order in debate. He usually dis- 
cussed subjects apart from the personalities in which 
they might be involved. He had none of the bitter- 
ness of mere party warfare. His mind seized the 
great principles which were involved in questions, 
and to them his strength was given. The editor of 
his writings states that he received but one injunc- 
tion from Mr. Webster in reference to his produc- 
tions, and that was, that he should obliterate from 
them, if possible, every trace of party feuds and 
personalities; and he truly adds, that there was but 
little occasion for the injunction. 

Another striking trait of Mr. Webster, in his pub- 
lic and private life, was the purity of his taste, and 
the elevation of his moral tone. One who has long 
been intimate with him declares that, never in his 
life did he hear an impure thought or a profane ex- 
pression come from his lips. And this there are 



•24 

none to gainsay. In all the six large volumes of 
his collected works, it would be as difficult to find a 
passage which contains a low sentiment, an impure 
allusion, a light or sneermg word in reference to 
sacred things, or any other than the loftiest and 
noblest principles and sentiments, as it would be to 
find examples of bad taste, feeble reasoning, or 
tawdry rhetoric. In these productions he still lives. 
There his real character, there his true heart, there 
his great and high nature, still speaks to his country 
and the world. AH that was temporary and inci- 
dental, all that detraction whispered, and malignity 
surmised, is already fleeing from before a fame 
which will be, with posterity, as spotless as it will 
be transcendent. 

But nothing in Mr. Webster was more beautiful 
than his large heart, the warm and tender atfec- 
tionateness of his disposition. No man ever had 
more ardent and tenacious affection for his kindred, 
his early associates, and the chosen circle of his 
friends. Less demonstrative of his feelings before 
the world than many others, with manners which 
in ceneral society and common intercourse some- 
times conveyed an impression of coldness, if not 
harshness, it is nevertheless true, that he was emi- 
nently loving and beloved within the sphere of home 
and of chosen friendships, and the private relations 
of life. Since his death, some most touching evi- 
dences of this fact have appeared. If the cabinets 
of his nearest friends could be opened to the public 
eye, they would show a wealth, a beauty, a tender- 



25 

ness, a warmtli, a delicate refinement of aftcction, 
that would prove this man of the largest brain, to 
have been a man no less of the largest heart. 

How touching that incident — you all have read 
it — of the hot day in July, when, a boy, he was 
making hay with his father ; and they sat beneath 
the elm, on a hay cock, and his father spoke to him 
of his toils and want of education, and he cried ; 
and his father promised that he should be educated. 
You remember how, when his father promised he 
should be educated, he laid his head upon his father's 
shoulder, and wept tears of grateful joy. How 
exquisite his letter to "Master Tappan," the "good 
old schoolmaster" of his childhood. How beautiful 
his tributes to the memory of his father, mother, 
and elder brother. How affecting the direction in 
his letter, so late as March of this year, to Jno. 
Taylor, the agent on his farm at Franklin : " Take 
care to keep my mother's garden in good order.''^ 
It was not of statesmanship and of the Presidency 
alone that he was thinking then. He had thoughts 
of his mother and of her garden ; and that garden 
of his mother in his childhood's home, he would 
have kept in order, whoever might be an accepted 
or rejected candidate. How beautiful the dedication 
of his works to his chosen friends and his nearest 
kindred ; especially that to the memory of his de- 
ceased son and daughter — 

" Go, gentle spirits, to your destined rest ; 
While I, reversed our nature's kindlier doom. 
Pour forth a father's sorrow at your tomb." 



26 

How does the beauty of that affection become 
siibhme, when he cahnly calls all his near ones 
around his dvnm bed ; and with words of affection, 
cheerfulness, and religious admonition, bids them 
a last farewell. 

This affection flowed forth over a large circle of 
beloved friends. With them, his intercourse was 
marked by the most endearing courtesies and kind- 
nesses. There was a cordiality and a genial 
cheerfulness in these friendships which gave tiiem 
a peculiar charm. Here he let his mind recreate 
and play. Here it was that the beauty of his mind 
often came forth and gambolled over its sleeping or 
reposing power. Here it was that his fine fancy, 
of whose use he was so sparing in his public efforts, 
had free range. He w ould not allow her to go forth 
with his reason, lest she should beguile it, when it 
was occupied in the grave tasks of patriotism and 
duty ; but he kc\)t her at home, by the side of his 
heart, that she might brighten and sing to the do- 
mestic circle. It was a delicate Ariel, whom this 
mighty Prospero would employ only in the service 
of the aflections. If the memories and the cabi- 
nets of his family and friends could be thrown open, 
it would be seen that this man. of the largest reason 
and affections, was a man also of the most beautiful 
and playful fancy. 

But on these features of his character I have too 
loiiii lingered. Let me, in conclusion, speak of his 
relicious character and his closinj; hours. 

Mr. Weestf.r, in early life, before his removal to 
Boston, was a communicant in a Congregational 



^7 



Orthodox Church in New Hampshire. After his 
removal to Boston, he attended the Unitarian 
Church. About ten years since he became a com- 
municant of the Episcopal Church in this city. 
During the five years and a half of my residence 
in this city, he has been a regular attendant and 
communicant in this Church. 

Of the entire system of religious opinions enter- 
tained by Mr. Webster I have no authority to 
speak. But in the conversations which I have had 
with him on religious subjects, his sentiments on 
several topics have been freely expressed. His 
preference for the Episcopal Church rested chiefly 
on his admiration of its liturgy, and its general con- 
servative character. He had no sympathy with, 
but rather a profound conviction of the folly of 
that churchmanship which stands with its face to 
the past, and its back to the future. He loved 
most that preaching which was plain, earnest, affec- 
tionate, personal, and expository, rather than that 
which was general and discursive. His conversa- 
tion was always understood by me to proceed upon 
the admission, on his part, of what are called the 
distinctive and evangelical truths of the Gospel. I 
have known his most emphatic approbation to have 
been expressed of sermons in which these truths 
were most distinctly presented. 

Mr. Webster was exceedingly fond of discours- 
ing and conversing on religious subjects. I never 
remember to have visited him, when the circum- 
stances admitted of it, that he did not enter upon 
the subject. I particularly remember a call which 



28 

I made upon him on the third or fourth evening 
after the dehvery of his great speech of the 7th of 
March, 1850. He was alone, and somewhat indis- 
posed. But at once, and with great interest — 
apparently forgetful of public atiairs, at a moment 
when most men would have been alive at every 
pore to know how their course would be responded 
to or approved — he entered upon a most interest- 
ing discussion of moral, philosophical, and religious 
questions. Among other subjects, he dwelt much 
on the tendency of men to rest in church, or ser- 
vices, or sacraments, or doctrines, or something 
else, for salvation and acceptance, except just that 
spiritual purity, and homage, and service which 
God demands •, and he gave me a sketch of a series 
of sermons which might be preached from the text, 
" God is a spirit, and they that worship him must 
worship him in spirit and in truth.'' One who had 
seen and heard him that evening, would have sup- 
posed that he was a sage and philosopher, whose 
interest was absorbed in these great themes. It 
would not have occurred to him that he was, at 
that moment, the most eminent of our public men, 
at the most critical period of his own and the 
nation's life. The incident impressed me with his 
sinsular greatness. 

It was my purpose, with Mr. AVedster's consent 
and aid, to collect all that he had written and said 
upon the subject of religion, and present it in a 
volume to the world. This purpose was delayed, 
that he might furnish mo with some of the pub- 
lished and manuscript productions on this subject, 



29 

which he had written in early hfe. His numerous 
duties and frequent indispositions from time to time, 
prevented the fulfihnent of his promise to furnish 
me with these materials. I was led to suppose 
that there might be no inconsiderable amount of 
such material scattered in some periodicals, which 
were written while he was a student at law, or 
during the earlier years of his legal life. He men- 
tioned an argument which he had written on the 
Immortality of the Soul, which I trust may be 
recovered. 

But I must hasten to a close. Some of the 
incidents of his closing hours have been given to 
the world. They show him to have been, in death, 
peaceful, majestic, and resigned. From my friend, 
Dr. Jeffries, his attending physician, a pious mem- 
ber of our communion, I have received a more full 
detail of incidents of his dying hours than has yet 
appeared. They are in the highest degree interest- 
ing and pleasing. They assuage our sorrow. They 
confirm our hope. 

From the letter I take the following : 

I was assured, early in the sickness of Mr. Webster, that he 
understood the danger of his situation. As the disease progress- 
ed, he knew that it would be soon fatal ; and he was the first to 
fix upon a definite time when he should die. But he was not 
disposed to speak of it, as 1 think, because he knew it would be 
distressing to his friends. He acted on this knowledge from the 
earliest period of my attendance ; every thing he did had a re- 
ference to this result. I had no conversation with him on the 
subject of his death until it was near, and but little on serious 
subjects ; that little, however, showed distinctly his views on this 
important subject, and together with what I otherwise heard 
and observed, served to illustrate satisfactorily his religiouj 
character. 



30 

T have not time, at so .short a notice, to explain the circum- 
stances and incidents of his sick chamber. 1, therefore, send 
you onlv a few facts for your consideration and use. I would 
observe, that his epitaph has not as yet been printed. 

If you analyze that remarkable embodiment of his thoughts, 
you will find a full expression of his faith under the teachings of 
"the spirit. His reference to the atonement you will perceive by 
what followed my recital of the hymn. I have no doubt that he 
was an experimental Christian. May we not confidently hope 
that he, who so often spoke with the truth and clearness of a 
prophet's vision, uttered under a Divine guidance those remark- 
able words, " I shall be tonight in life, and joy, and blessed- 



ness " 



The few facts I have to present to you, are as follows : 
On leaving Mr. Webster for the night at half past eleven, on 
Saturday, October 16, 1852, I asked him if I should repeat to 
him a hymn at parting, to which he gave a ready assent; when I 
repeated the hymn which begins 

"There is a fountain filled with biood, 
Drawn from Immanuers veins." 

He gave very seriovis attention to the recital, and at the close 
he said, " Amen, amen, even so come Lord Jesus." This was 
uttered with great solemnity. He afterwards asked me if I re- 
membered the verse in one of Watts' hymns on the thought of 
dying at the foot of the Cross, and repeated these lines, with re- 
markable energy and feeling : 

" Should worlds conspire to drive me hence, 
Moveless and firm this heart should lie, 
Resolved, (for that's my last defence,) 
If I must perish— here to die." 

After this he said, that " he owed it to his fellow-countrymen to 
express his deep conviction of the divine inspiration of the gospel 
of Jesus Christ," and had embodied some thoughts which he 
gave to Mr. Edward Curtis. 

He repeated the text, " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and 
thou shalt be saved," and then, what ho had given to be in- 
.ocribed upon his tombstone, which was as follows ; 

" Lord 1 believe, help Thou mine unbelief." 

'< Philosophical argument, especially that drawn from the vast- 
ness of the Universe, in comparison with the apparent insignifi- 
cance of this globe, has sometimes shaken my reason for the 
faith which is in me ; but my heart has always assured and reas- 
sured me, that the Gospel of Jesus Christ must be a Divine 
reality. 



31 

♦' The Sermon on the Mount cannot be a merely human produc- 
tion. This belief enters into the very depth of my conscience. 
" The whole history of man proves it. 

« DANIEL WEBSTER." 

He afterwards said that he wished also to leave, somewhere, 
his testimony in favor of early piety ; that he was familiar with 
all the great poets. Pope, Dryden, Cowper, Milton, and others, 
but that the hymns of Wafts, from his cradle hymns to his ver- 
sion of the Psalms, and other deeper hymns, were always upper- 
most in his mind and on his tongue ; that he could repeat them 
faster than four scribes could write them down. 

He .conveyed very strongly, by his remarks, that his early reli- 
gious instruction and acquirements had always had the most pro- 
found and abiding influence upon his mind and life. 

I was informed by Mrs. Webster, about a fortnight before his 
death, that he had been speaking to her of his case, and express- 
ed the apprehension that it would terminate fatally ; he then ap- 
peared to consider his preparation for the event, and clasping his 
hands he said, with deep emotion, " I believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ." 

A short time before he became unable to express his thoughts, 
he appeared to be engaged in silent prayer, (as I often noticed 
his appearance to indicate during his sickness,) when he gave 
utterance to something — a few words of which were low and lost 
by me ; that which followed was, " but whatsoever I do. Al- 
mighty God, receive me to thyself for Jesus Christ's sake." He 
also exclaimed, " I shall be, to-night, in life, and joy, and bless- 
edness." 

On Saturday, October 23d, about 8 o'clock, a. m., he request- 
ed that all in the room should leave it, except myself. He had 
just vomited, and was still sitting erect in the bed ; I had taken 
the place of the person who had previously supported him at his 
back, and was behind him. He asked if all had left the room. 
I answered, "yes." He then, in a perfectly clear and distinct 
voice, said, " Doctor, you have carried me through the night, 
and I think you will get me through the day ; I shall die to- 
night.'* This was spoken emphatically, but without any agita- 
tion, and was followed by minute directions for what he wished 
consequently to be done. During the day he gave particular at- 
tention to many lesser, as well as some important, matters of busi- 
ness. 

Could I, my dear sir, have delayed this reply, I should have 
written much more fully, and furnished you with more of the oc- 
currences of his sickness and death, especially a prayer which 
be made after executing his will ; but I have time only for these 
few irregular remarks. 



32 

Oh, my brethren, if this strong man, in hie and 
death, throws himself hke a child on the provisions 
of mercy in the gospel of Jesus Christ, what shall 
we, in our weakness, do ? What will become of us 
on a dying bed, and in the eternal world, if we live 
without God and die without Christ? 

Receive, I pray you, the living and dying testi- 
mony of him who knew what were the wants of the 
greatest, equally with the humblest, of men, and 
has pointed out where they may be supplied. Could 
he speak to us, he would need but to repeat his last 
words on earth, to assure us how wise and well it is 
to trust our salvation to an Omnipotent Redeemer. 
He might say to us — Because of reliance on him 
'-^ I still live^'^ and living, realize how poor and dim 
was the life of earth compared with this life of hea- 
ven. " I still live,'' and my life is the surpassing 
fulfilment of the anticipation with which I passed 
through death, that I should be, on that night of sor- 
row to those whom I left behind, " in life, and joy, 
and blessedness.'' We catch the words from his 
dying lips ; we hear them now bursting from his 
glorified and enraptured spirit ; and that which, dy- 
ing, was his hope and strength, is our consolation, 
as we bend over his tomb — life, joy, blessedness'. 



3 

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